


What the Cat Brought Home

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: College AU, Davos is confused, M/M, Modern AU, No couches were harmed in writing this fic, Patchface the cat, Stannis rants at a door, my cat is hiding in your dorm room au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The  “ignore me, I’m not talking to your door, I’m just whispering to my cat who likes to climb into your house through your open perpetually open window and sleep on your sofa or dining table and now refuses to leave” AU</p><p>Patchface, Stannis Baratheon's fat old cat, takes a liking to Davos Seaworth. Well, Davos Seaworth's couch. Cat shenanigans ensue, and maybe something else as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Cat Brought Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather light piece, inspired by this prompt. So, Patchface is a cat. Just go along with it. 
> 
> I own nothing. Not even a cat, sadly.

There was was someone hissing at his door. 

Actually, there was another student sitting in his haunches, glaring at Davos' dorm room door like they wanted to set it on fire and ranting in quiet, angry tones at it. Davos had to blink twice to be sure this wasn't a creation of his sleep deprived brain or a late surging effect from that weird cocktail Salla insisted he try. 

No, the door hater was real. 

"Excuse me," he said, trying to be reasonable. There had to be a good reason for someone to develop such a dislike against a blameless piece of wood, certainly? "But that's my door you're speaking to."

The person, a man if he had to guess from the shortly cropped hair and broad shoulder, didn't even dignify that with a look. Instead, he kept his ranting, stopping only long enough to speak curtly. 

"Ignore this, it's not your door I am opposed to. My cat keeps entering your house through your open windows. Don't you know it's a security hazard not to close them when the room is empty?" He didn't wait for a reply, turning his focus to the door again. 

Davos sighed. He had hoped to get home and take the chance to finish his essay before his roommate Sallador Sann came back with his exuberant noise, but it seemed it wouldn't be that simple. Well, at least now he knew that the strange stain in the couch was not the result of one of Salla's least successful gin experiences. He owed his roommate an apology. 

He fished in his pockets for the keychain, "Here, let my keys and you can go get your cat." 

This time the wayward cat owner did turn around, and Davos had little time to process the square jaw and gaunt cheekbones before he was being glared at by eyes of a dark, dark blue. "That won't be necessary. I am certain Patchface will soon obey and return." The look in his face seemed to say that it was in Patchface's own interest to return swiftly and meekly present himself for further punishment.

It was a very intimidating look, and if Davos hadn't been raised in Flea Bottom and spent an year in a correctional institute when he was 16, he might have bent. As it was, he stepped forward and continued to open the door regardless. He was tired, he was hungry and there was an unknown cat peeing all over his second-hand furniture. No amount of glaring can stop an exhausted college student, it's a fact of life. 

The door lock clicked open as the stranger lifted himself from his crouch, huffing when his bones protested. Up close, he was taller than Davos and looked to be even more tired than he felt, with deep circles under his eyes and the thin built of someone who was too busy to eat enough. Davos felt for him. How long had he been here, spending previous time trying to recuperate his cat when he should have been eating lunch or sleeping? 

Without sparing him a look, the stranger entered his room with quick strides, inspecting every surface with a judgmental eye. From his place closing the locks and placing down his backpack and jacket in the hooks, Davos heard the reunion between owner and pet, with a growl from the human and a lazy purr from the cat. Patchface must have been jostled from his comfortable position is the quilt pile because his purr turned into a howl as his owner snatched him up and proceeded to give him a dressing down that would have made a war general proud.

"Do you realize how foolish your wandering off was, you useless feline? The trouble I have had to in order to find you? This is not tolerable behaviour for a pet, Patches." The cat was lifted until they were eye to eye, ears d. His response was to meow pitifully. Too bad his owner didn't seem inclined to show him mercy, much less cuddles. 

Davos had wondered how such a dour fellow had ended up with a cat named Patchface, or otherwise known as Patches, but the odd russet and yellow pattern in his face made the name obvious. He was an old volantesi house cat, if he wasn't mistaken, and if his healthy size and well-brushed fur were anything to go by, his owner's anger came more from genuine worry for a beloved pet than just annoyance for an inconvenience. Davos had always been a believer that you could tell a lot about a person from their pets.

Not that such anger seemed to be relenting anytime soon. Davos coughed, hoping he didn't make it clear how much he found the whole scene amusing, "So, you have your cat. I'm sorry for the whole thing, I'll make sure to close my windows when I'm out, so Patchface shouldn't be getting in any more trouble here. I'm Davos Seaworth, by the way."

"Stannis. My name is Stannis Baratheon. " Now that his goal had been accomplished, the strangeness of the situation seemed to have caught up with him. Stannis looked around awkwardly for a moment until his eyes fixated on the kitchen table.

"Patchface shed fur over your eating surface. I apologize. He has learned how to open the windows in my room and likes to explore the dorm complex, although he seems to have created a preference for your room. I am willing to pay for the cleaning of your couch, but it seems rather pointless." Drily, Stannis nodded towards the couch. Sure enough, the ugly blue-and-black stripes pattern was covered in fur and stank of cat, in every meaning of the expression. 

Scrunching his noise at the smell, Davos waved the offer away. "Don't worry, my roommate owes me a piece of furniture of my choice and that couch is older than me." Stannis lifted his eyebrows, probably wondering just how Salla had become indebted to him in furniture, but thankfully didn't pursue that story. After a moment, he went on, "Listen, I don't really have much in terms of clean surfaces right now, but my roommate won't be back for a while yet and there's enough onion soup for two in the fridge. I could reheat it, and your cat could have some salted fish. You and Patchface could stay, if you want."

Stannis scowl deepened, thick eyebrows furrowed almost into one, and Davos was certain he was about to be rebuffed, when Patchface made the choice for his owner. He jumped from his arms, dashing on quiet paws and entwined himself between Davos' legs. Purring loud, he kept butting his head against Davos' worn jeans with his tail in a tight grip on his knee, a heavy content weight .

Lifting his gaze from the strange sight of his apparent adoption by a feline, Davos caught the intense way Stannis was looking at them. Then he inclined his head in what could pass for a nod and his dry tone sounded almost pleased when he answered,

"It seems Patchface and I will not be going anywhere."


End file.
